Epic
by shesmyfavorite
Summary: A lost prophecy is discovered. A very reluctant love is wielded. Hermione and Draco must join together to create and destroy Voldemort's final Horcrux. Perfect for DHr shippers... long and lovely. Rated M for language, violence, and sexuality.
1. Lots of Tears

The room was deafeningly silent.

The kind of silence that was powerful. The nothingness created a pulsation, bouncing off the threadbare walls, echoing in the still room until a wave of shivers created goose bumps on flesh. There was a tangible tension in the room radiating off every person's body like a personal furnace, but no one uttered a single, tiny syllable. Breaths were being held in an attempt to continue fostering the silence, because for some unspoken, yet mutual, reason the maintained quiet atmosphere was almost spiritual and unbreakable. Unable to stand it any longer, Minerva McGonagall was the first to tilt her head up slowly and sadly to match Dumbledore's heartbroken gaze.

"What does this mean, Albus?" It came out as barely a whisper, yet it cut through the room and the silence like a shattering glass, jarring and unpleasant. The other bodies in the room shifted softly, not yet daring or able to speak. Everyone in the room knew the answer to the question, McGonagall included; it was silly for her to ask. She did not query to hear a real reply or instigate a conversation, more to soften the ever-growing rigidity of the group. After a few more painfully uncommunicative seconds, Dumbledore slowly squeezed his eyes shut and rested both his palms heavily onto his sturdy, mahogany desk. He remained stationary in that position for a few more seconds, and then suddenly reopened his eyes, allowing a solitary tear to carve its way down the right side of his weathered face. Everyone stared in mute horror as they witnessed the slow descent of the tear, catching subtlety on ancient wrinkles until it gathered into a fat, wavery droplet on his chin.

And then, quite suddenly, it fell.

This was the very crumbling of Dumbledore's composure. For, who, in their right mind could hold themselves together when everything they ever believed to be true was swept out from beneath them like a cruel joke? Everything that they had been working towards, preparing, teaching...living...Everything that they had cried over together, bled over, _killed_ over.

"Everything..." Dumbledore's voice cracked and he paused. The very sight of him in this state was unnerving for all his colleagues in the room. Albus Dumbledore was a leader. Albus Dumbledore was a hero- he was the one man the Dark Lord was afraid of. Albus Dumbledore was not allowed to be afraid or unsure or _wrong_.

He cleared his throat in a futile attempt to hold himself together, and began with a different approach.

"It is painfully obvious that we have not been farther from the truth in this grave matter. We have projected Harry Potter into this cold reality on false pretenses, on misleading and incorrect information. We have lost countless Order members and brave citizens due to this blatant mistake. We must rectify it, and start anew. We cannot let this mistake be the reason we lose this war- not _this_!" Dumbledore's voice rose and he slammed his fist onto the table he was leaning on, causing a few people to jump. "Due to this new, and God help us, _accurate_ information, I believe it is clear who must finish this task..." he trailed off as everyone broke the silence in murmurs.

"I feel before we make any official decisions we all really must take some time to sort everything out as best we c-" Professor Sprout, nervously wringing her hands together spoke before Snape cut her off deliberately.

"There is no time for us to sit in our rooms, comfortably weighing the sides of a question we all know the answer to. It would be foolish and unnecessary. I say we decide now and inform the students- excuse me, _former_ _students_, of their new-found duty in life." Snape finished icily. The other professors eyed him warily, knowing he was probably right, but the way he chose to go about matters was downright abrasive most of the time.

"Shall we take a vote of hands?" Professor Sprout offered, looking around the room at all her fellow colleagues. No one answered, still partially in shock from the news.

"For telling them now," Dumbledore's voice boomed in the small office, and he appeared to have reestablished himself, the friendly twinkle in his eyes replaced with a fiery determination. Everyone was abruptly reminded why he was feared by _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_.

Four hands slowly snaked their way into the air.

"I believe you have been outvoted, my dear." Dumbledore spoke gently and smiled sadly at Professor Sprout. She looked as though she was about to burst into tears at any moment. Snape had just plucked a tissue for her and was waving it at her with an expression of dissatisfaction when she whisked past him carelessly and ignored his gesture.

"Very well. Give them my good wishes and love." she spoke quickly, and then bustled out of the office, letting the door slam on her way out. A small sob was heard on the other side of the door as she descended the spiraling staircase. The other teachers stood quietly for a few more moments, unsure of whether to stay or leave. All were very well ready to abandon the awkward situation, but once again, no one was willing to take the initial plunge. Minerva McGonagall inhaled sharply through her nose and smoothed her hair out of habit. She made the first step towards the door, and the others followed suit, except for Severus Snape. As soon as the others had left and closed the door solidly behind them, Severus spoke.

"We are certain _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ has heard the new prophecy?" Snape asked, pouring himself a glass of whisky, his hands abnormally unsteady. Dumbledore sighed deeply while he removed his glasses and pressed his hands to his face, slowly massaging the corners of his eyes closest to the bridge of his nose.

"Only a fraction of it. But enough to make rash decisions to protect himself." Dumbledore answered, situating his glasses back on his nose and making his way slowly over to his familiar, round pensieve. He gently touched the tip of his wand to his temple and drew out a long, thin, wispy memory to add to the already swirling basin. "Enough for him to want to kill Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy more than anything else in the world..."

….

Pansy Parkinson was stretched luxuriously by her pool, wearing only the bottoms of her black bikini and fully intent on soaking up as much sun as possible. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her shoulders and shone under the summer sun. Oversized sunglasses sat regally on the bridge of her nose, and she had an expression of extreme satisfaction on her face. She had absolutely no idea Draco was standing behind her, arms crossed, smirking infamously and enjoying the view immensely. Draco always knew she was semi-pretty if she kept her mouth shut. And to someone like Draco Malfoy, that was all that mattered, for he never planned on falling in love with someone of substance. His selection was limited, and sadly, Pansy was as good as it got as far as young, rich, Purebloods went. Suddenly, Pansy sighed in contentment, shifting her body slightly to get more sun, causing her youthfully young breasts to bounce playfully and catch Draco's attention again. Draco stripped off his shirt in one quick motion, leaving him in dark khaki-colored cargo shorts that rode low on his hips. It was far too hot to mess with formal robes, and besides, no one was around to chastise him for his casual attire. Pansy noticed none of this, her eyes still hidden behind oversized sunglasses. Walking with a slight bounce in his step, Draco made his way over to the deepest end of the pool, balanced himself, and dove in causing a gigantic splash.

Pansy bolted straight out of her chair, screamed, and reached desperately for her towel. Her sunglasses slipped off her face, shattering the lenses on the marble under her feet, but none of that mattered to her.

"Fuck!" She managed to blurt out, after realizing who had scared her. "If my father were here..." she began to patronize.

"But he's not here, now is he, Pans?" Draco interrupted, smirking at her knowingly, and Pansy's visibly tense frame relaxed slightly. She took a deep, calming breath before answering.

"No, Draco, he's not here. He's in Tuscany on business with Mother. Won't be back until early next week." she ended her sentence and the right corner of her mouth twitched slightly upward. Draco lay on his back in the water with his arms resting behind his head lazily. Draco had to refrain from snorting at this. _Business_. Business with the Dark Lord or business with the Tuscan mistress while the Mrs. was preoccupied with the scenery and wine?

"How very interesting. What is a girl like you going to do for four days without the parents?" he questioned, his voice dropping so that it was almost a growl. Pansy dropped the towel slowly and without inhibition. She sauntered over to the edge of the pool closest to Draco. He repositioned himself so that he was standing in the water. They had only been on their official summer holiday for a week, but already Pansy was thoroughly tanned. Girls like Pansy didn't waste any time striving for perfection. Tan was 'in' this season, so Pansy had jumped on the bandwagon early. She tossed her long, shiny hair swiftly into a bun on top of her head as she slipped daintily into the water. As she maneuvered closer to Draco he noticed her overwhelming pink lip gloss lavishly spread over her quasi-full lips and the rest of her face masked under many layers of powder and rouge. Natural beauty was never a possession of Pansy's, so as long as Draco didn't have to see what she looked like first thing in the morning, he didn't really care.

"I haven't officially decided, but I have a few novel ideas..." Pansy purred, smirking worthy of a Malfoy and wrapping her thin arms around his neck. Draco leaned forward to close the gap between them and pressed his lips roughly to hers, tasting the waxy, plastic feel of the lip gloss. He slowly forced her lips open, imagining flippantly that her lips were soft and warm and free of substance. He was never romantic with a girl, never kind and loving. It was not the Malfoy way. Instead he was rough, diligent, and removed. Malfoy's were never taught to become enraptured with a woman, to love and cherish her more than life, but instead to possess one like one may own a lamp or a clock. A woman was there to bear pureblood heirs and to succumb to the man's will and request, both sexually and physically. Thinking about this, Draco intentionally bit Pansy's lip, hard enough to draw blood. She gasped quietly, and pulled away, a thin trickle of blood staining her chin. She looked at him with confusion at first, for Draco had never hurt her before, and then with anger. Draco eyed her almost challengingly, daring her to speak of it with something other than appreciation and gratitude.

"What's happened to you, Draco?" she whispered, catching Draco off guard. Her hand deftly wiped the blood from her chin, but a reddish tinge would not leave the spot. He chose not to answer her, but instead pulled her swiftly back to him, lips inches apart. He felt her soft breath against him and the rapid heartbeat in her wrist where he held her firmly.

"Fear me," Draco breathed the command. Pansy stiffened.

"What's happened, Draco?" Pansy voice shook as she asked the question again. With lightening speed, Draco's right hand flew from the water and clenched her delicate neck right underneath her chin. Pansy's eyes were wide with horror and alarm, but she remained silent. Draco tilted her head up by applying pressure to her jaw and stared at the broken skin on her lip where he had bitten her. It was still oozing a tiny amount of blood, and had now swollen a bit. Draco's eyes then flitted over her face; she had closed her eyes and was breathing rapidly through her nose. He let go of her neck roughly and pushed her back, causing her to splash a little in the water.

Before he could say or do anything else, a large eagle owl swooped from seemingly nowhere and landed on his shoulder. Glancing at the cowering girl in front of him, Draco immediately lost any and all desire to be near her. He scooped the letter from the owl's beak and instructed it to fly off; there would be no treats for it from him. He mechanically pulled himself out of the water and moved to sit on the nearest chair to look over the letter. It was addressed to him. How odd.

"Do you even love me at all?" Pansy whispered from the pool, tears already falling down her cheeks. Her arms had crossed protectively to cover to exposed chest in the water. Draco rolled his eyes. _Love_? Was she fucking kidding?

"I've never loved anything, why would you be any different?" Pansy cried harder. Draco chose to ignore it.

Opening the letter, he immediately recognized the neatly slanted writing and began reading with curiosity and a small amount of hope.

Pansy had helped herself out of the pool and wrapped a towel around her torso by now, hurt by Draco's lack of care, and was making her way over to her top, her wet feet making slapping noises against the marble. She opened her mouth angrily as she passed him, fully intending to give him a piece of her mind, but was silenced by the look on his face.

"What is it, then?" she spat, still cross with him, but undeniably curious by the letter and it's effect on him. She would have to be nice if she wanted to find out what was so intriguing in the letter. Draco continued reading until the end, at which he crumpled the letter up, and threw it casually on the ground next to him. Just as Pansy was leaning down to pick it up and read for herself, Draco caused it to combust into flames with a flick of his wand. Yelping and recoiling back, Pansy practically fell back into the pool.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you, _Malfoy_?" Pansy raged, using his surname to show how upset she was. Draco merely glared at her as he tugged his white polo back over his still damp chest and began walking away. "First you scare me half to death while I'm sunbathing, then you make me bleed and choke me, and then you try to catch me on _fire_! Are you going to treat me like this when I'm your fucking _wife_?"

Draco whirled around and took a few dangerous steps toward her; she recoiled immediately.

"Is there a fucking diamond on your finger?" he whispered savagely.

"No." Pansy ground out through clenched teeth, her eyes flashing in anger and fear.

"Then piss off and leave me the fuck alone until I call for _you_."

"Fuck you, Malfoy!" Pansy screamed after him, but she never knew if he actually heard it, because he disappeared with a quick _pop_.

….

Hermione twirled the modest promise ring Ron had given her around her index finger. It was shiny and silver, with a small ruby in the center. He had asked the jeweler to engrave the words _Wait For Me_ on the inside of the slim band in an elegant scroll. Though she would never tell another soul, the cheesy message kind of made her want to gag.

"What do you say, 'Mione? I know it's kind of out of the blue, but it just feels right..." Ron trailed off, seeing the unconfident look on her face.

Surely this must have cost him nearly all his savings, Hermione privately thought. The engraving on the inside of the band made it special, unique, and therefore, non-returnable.

"Of course, this isn't making anything set completely in stone or anything..." Ron rambled on nervously, "it's just a way for other people to know that we're in a serious relationship... and that maybe, one day, we'll think about getting...you know..."

"Married?" Hermione mumbled, still eyeing the ring.

"Exactly!" Ron said excitedly, taking her words to mean she was convinced.

But what could she really say? Tell Ron she loved him dearly and the ring was an extremely nice gesture, but she didn't really think of him as "The One"? Tell him that even though she had kissed him for the first time a week before that it didn't really mean she wanted to _marry_ him? Oh, bugger, Hermione thought. What else could she do but...

"I love it!" she managed to squeak out, throwing him an awkward smile. Ron beamed as he slipped the ring onto her ring finger.

"Oops, I guess it's a little big... I can have it fixed if you like..." Ron mumbled embarrassed. Hermione knew he couldn't afford to do any more work on the ring.

"No, Ron, it's perfect just the way it is. I told you I loved it." Hermione smiled softly at him and he leaned over to peck her quickly on the lips. She felt sick.

"Hermione, dear!" Mrs. Weasley called from the back door. "Sorry to interrupt, but you've just received an owl!"

Secretly thankful to have an excuse to abandon the awkward situation, Hermione popped up and walked briskly into the house, Ron following happily in her wake. The large eagle owl was perched on the windowsill, looking around regally.

"Hello there..." Hermione spoke softly to it as she took the letter. The owl nipped her fingers affectionately, and swooped out the window without waiting to see if she would reply. Ron clambered up the stairs, undoubtedly to spread the news that Hermione loved his ring.

Hermione took the letter, frowning slightly, and sat down at the Weasley family's large dining room table to open it as Mrs. Weasley began preparing dinner.

"Who's it from, love?" Mrs. Weasley asked brightly as she cracked an egg on the rim of a pan. Not hearing a reply from the girl in a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley turned around, her eyebrows furrowed as Hermione remained silent.

"It's from Dumbledore..." Hermione answered quietly. "He says it's an emergency and I have to fly to Hogwarts immediately?" She ended the sentence with a question, not comprehending what could possibly be so wrong. Mrs. Weasley took a seat next to Hermione and read the letter over with her. Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything for a few moments after she had finished reading it and Hermione waited for her response.

"I'll owl Arthur at the Ministry, maybe he'll have some idea what this is all about..." Mrs. Weasley got up and walked into the other room to borrow Pig. Hermione sat still re-reading the letter until she decided it was unwise to continue wasting time.

"I suppose I'll head over. Hopefully I'll be back in time for dinner." Hermione managed to smile slightly as Mrs. Weasley sent Pig out the window with a letter to Mr. Weasley.

"Alright, dear. Tell Dumbledore we all said hello and give him our love..." Mrs. Weasley embraced Hermione in a short, tight hug before letting her go. Hermione separated herself from Mrs. Weasley briefly before she felt the keen mother grab her left hand and see the promise ring hanging limply on her finger. The warm mother smiled genuinely for a brief second before pulling Hermione into another hug. "Don't break his heart..." Mrs. Weasley whispered, her voice full of compassion and love for her youngest son. Hermione felt her stomach drop.

A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm back from an extended leave of absence, and I'm really really excited about this story. I've already written the first four chapters, and I will be posting them soon. Please review, because I want to know whether or not you like it so far!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with the stories. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling except my plot line.


	2. The Lost Prophecy

Recap:

Hermione separated herself from Mrs. Weasley briefly before she felt the keen mother grab her left hand and see the promise ring hanging limply on her finger. The warm mother smiled genuinely for a brief second before pulling Hermione into another hug. "Don't break his heart..." Mrs. Weasley whispered, her voice full of compassion and love for her youngest son. Hermione felt her stomach drop.

Chapter Two

The Lost Prophecy

Draco was winding mechanically through the stone hallways in Hogwarts, his mind racing on all the possible events that may have unfolded causing Dumbledore to summon him so abruptly. The message itself was very cryptic; leading Draco to believe it was a grave matter they were about to discuss. As Draco neared the familiar office, he heard the sound of quick, distinct heels tapping to the rhythm of swift stride. As a result, Hermione and Draco met outside Dumbledore's office at almost exactly the same time. Stopping abruptly in front of one another, they glared in silence for a few seconds before moving further. Draco watched her scrutinize his movements, and found it comical that she appeared to be sizing him up. He had to stop himself from viciously informing her of the Dark magic he knew that would leave her writhing in agony on the floor while her insides slowly dissolved into puddles of fiery blood and substance. His memory flashed with all the dirty Mudbloods just like her that he had already killed mercilessly, without a second thought. And then, after he had told her all of this, he wanted to see the look of horror on her face as he described everything in agonizing detail and informed her of how many tick marks he had scratched into the wall of his bedroom that represented a Mudblood he had ridden the world of. Yes, Draco Malfoy was a sick bastard; he was aware of it and would have worn a badge if he could have. He prided himself on that aspect of it, because it was one angle she would never best him at, one thing he could threaten her with and mean _every single word_. Dumbledore would kick him straight out of the castle, headfirst too, if he were aware Draco possessed these inner thoughts.

"Granger." Draco spoke curtly, a slight sneer playing at his lips. Hermione said nothing in response, and took the spiraling staircase two stairs at a time. Her heart beating rapidly inside her chest, she knocked briskly on Dumbledore's solid door, hoping to get in and seated before Draco finished climbing the stairs. She had been observing him, downstairs, because there was something out of place that she could feel. Not that she had ever known the boy well enough to be able to figure out when he was having an 'off-day' or anything, but there was something crackling in the air around them that felt... _funny._ A sick, evil, deathly kind of funny. Right before he had spoken her name, a kind of glum, eerie feeling had swept around her, almost as if he was channeling hatred and negative energy towards her. To be quite frank, it had frightened her significantly, which resulted in her bounding up the stairs to get away from him and _it._

"You may enter," Hermione heard Dumbledore call from the other side of the door. Draco was just rounding the last curve of the staircase when he saw Hermione slip inside the door. He took his time following after her, and sat on the opposite end of the couch once inside Dumbledore's office. Both Draco and Hermione were extremely surprised to see Harry Potter and Professor McGonagall already seated in the office. Harry locked eyes with Hermione, a dull, somber expression on his face. Her anxiety immediately heightened. She started to move closer to him, but he shook his head 'no' and motioned that she sit on the couch. Frowning, Hermione mouthed the words _What's wrong?_ to him. He shook his head again and diverted his eyes from her, ultimately ending their communication. Hermione was extremely worried and confused; Harry was acting very out of character, which could only mean something was _very, very_ wrong. She sat idly on the far right side of the couch, squished as close to the arm as she could manage. Draco sat down easily on the extreme left side of the couch and shot Harry a nasty look.

Dumbledore merely looked at the two of them silently for a moment, for no matter how long he had prepared what he was going to say to the pair, nothing ever sounded right.

"I would like to offer my congratulations to the two of you for your outstanding performance during your years at Hogwarts, I am sad to see you leave my halls. I know that you both were never on the best of terms during your years here, and spent... infrequent time together. However," Dumbledore paused at this and took a few steadying breaths. He seemed to decide it was best to not beat around the bush.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Hermione asked timidly, her palms beginning to feel clammy. Dumbledore looked her in the eyes. She looked so frightened, worried. So innocent, naive. So damn _young_.

"No, Miss Granger. Everything is very far from being alright." Dumbledore responded, the usual twinkle missing from his blue eyes. "What I am about to tell you and ask of you both is not easy, nor avoidable. A lost prophecy has come into our possession. From what we have gathered, when Professor Trelawney spoke the prophecy about Harry, it was only about half of the true story. The rest speaks of the final Horcrux, the last one to find and destroy. The last one is unique from all the others because..." Dumbledore hesitated. "because you, Miss Granger, and Mr. Malfoy must destroy the final Horcrux together." Hermione scrunched her brow, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"I trust you know of the Horcruxes, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall questioned primly, a hint of bitterness evident in her voice. Draco merely nodded, almost lazily.

"Mr. Malfoy and I have been having somewhat frequent communication for the past year, he has expressed wishes to abandon the hold the Dark Lord has over him and his remaining family and join our cause. Do you still harbor these desires, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore paused and all eyes bore into Draco. He hesitated for a moment before nodding silently again. Harry continued to glare at him scrutinizingly.

"Why do _we_ have to do it? Why does it matter _who_ does it?" Hermione asked, completely confused. She had a dull feeling inside her that screamed she didn't want to know why.

"It's complicated." Dumbledore simply said. "The prophecy speaks of two mortal enemies, coming together to physically_ create_ the final Horcrux.-"

"Oh my God..." Hermione felt she might start hyperventilating. "Oh...my... God...a baby? We have to create and destroy a _baby_?" She was practically screaming by now. She looked wildly over to Harry, who was clenching his jaw and staring at the carpet beneath him.

"Now wait just a bloody minute!" Draco finally spoke up. "I'm certainly no Saint, but kill an innocent _child_?! I came to you in _confidence_, thinking that you-"

"I'd rather die!" Hermione interrupted, feeling the hot tears roll down her cheeks fluently. Harry, never missing a beat, had heard Draco before Hermione cut him off and was throwing him a curious, albeit menacing look. Draco had apparently caught his slip and transformed his facial expression back to neutral and passive.

"Miss Granger, the prophecy does not specify what exactly it is you and Mr. Malfoy must...erm... _create_..." Professor McGonagall offered, her hands shaking visibly.

"Oh yeah? Well, what else is there exactly? What other options are we left with?" Draco spat.

"I can't have sex with him!" Hermione cried shrilly. "I can't, I can't!"

"Like I would want to fuck a mud-" Draco's face was irate, and he had practically jumped off the couch away from her.

"MISTER MALFOY!" Dumbledore's voice echoed in the small room. They all fell silent. "I understand the high level of stress you are both feeling, but I assure you Voldemort would not entrust his final Horcrux into _anything_ mortal. Humans are far too susceptible to being destroyed than other inanimate objects."

Harry had moved over closer to Hermione and had a hand rubbing small circles on her back comfortingly as her tears fell freely.

"Why us?" Hermione whispered. Dumbledore suddenly looked very tired and very old.

"I have theories...one being the obvious fact that Mr. Malfoy is the future heir to Lord Voldemort himself. Also, Miss Granger is a very close friend of Mr. Potter's. There are countless reasons, some of which we may never understand. The point of today's meeting is to inform you both that you must go into hiding immediately until we have gathered more knowledge on this matter."

"How do you know for sure the prophecy was specifically talking about us?" Draco asked suddenly. "Couldn't there be lots of other purebloods and muggle-borns out there who have links some how?"

"The prophecy was clear that it was you." Harry finally spoke. "I've heard it myself, and there isn't a doubt in my mind that it is you the prophecy is referring to. I hate it just as much as you, _Malfoy_..."

"Can we hear the prophecy, then?" Draco had reseated himself and clenched his fists, leaning towards the desk and looking around for a vial that may hold the prophecy that was completely turning his life upside down.

"I regret that I cannot allow that, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore spoke softly.

"Why the hell not?" Draco demanded, his voice growing louder.

"It has since been destroyed so that it will never again fall into the wrong hands." Dumbledore explained patiently.

"Voldemort knows the whole prophecy?" Hermione asked, her normal voice returning.

"That is another aspect of this that only increases the complexity of the situation." Dumbledore started. "He has only heard a portion of the prophecy, a very crucial portion at that. He knows that two mortal enemies must come together despite their blood to ultimately create his last life-line. Mr. Potter must still follow through and destroy it, as only he has the power to do so."

"What about the prophecy regarding Harry that was in the Department of-" Hermione stopped herself and looked over at Draco. He was glaring at her, aware she knew everything that happened as a result of that night.

"That prophecy still holds truth, Miss Granger, as I said earlier, it was only half of the story."

"I refuse to be a part of this." Draco spat. "I do not agree with it, I do not think it's right, and I certainly don't want to be caught up in anything dealing with Potter and Grang-"

"You have no choice, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore spoke firmly.

"Oh yeah? What's going to happen if I don't play along with this rubbish?" Draco challenged.

"You will be killed. Along with Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, myself, and numerous other people in the wizarding world." Dumbledore responded.

"And what if I don't care?" Draco yelled, on his feet again. Dumbledore smiled sadly, yet calmly at him.

"Well, that's not really a pressing issue, now is it, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco glared at him with intense malice, but did not contradict what he had said.

"Voldemort's not going to take it too kindly that I just up and _leave_…" Draco challenged.

"Do not concern yourself with that, Mr. Malfoy, we have means to lead him to believe you are as good as dead." Dumbledore explained quietly. Harry and Hermione exchanged meaningful looks.

"What are we to do, exactly?" Hermione questioned, her expression resigned and tired.

"As I said before, you both must go into hiding immediately for your protection. As Lucius Malfoy is incarcerated in Azkaban prison, and Narcissa Malfoy is currently residing with her family in the South of France, you are both to stay at Malfoy Manor." Dumbledore spoke calmly, as if it was a careless topic.

"Now wait just a minute." Draco interrupted. "Malfoy Manor? She can't stay there! She's a Mud- muggleborn! The house would probably explode into flames if she even steps a foot inside the door!" Draco protested angrily.

"It will do no such thing, Mr. Malfoy. I understand your inconvenience in the situation, but it really works out quite well for the both parties involved. No one will ever expect Miss Granger, a witch of pure Muggle heritage, to be residing in Malfoy Manor, now will they?"

"And for good reason! That house is packed full of so many wards and curses I can't even own a cat because it's not pureblooded!" Draco shouted.

"That, Mr. Malfoy, is reversible." Professor McGonagall spoke once again. Draco appeared to give up.

"Fine. What the fuck ever." He mumbled.

"Language, Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall lectured him.

"Professor, there has to be another way..." Hermione's bottom lip was quivering and her voice shook. "I don't want to stay at Malfoy Manor."

Draco shot her a disgusted look.

"There is no other way, Miss Granger. I apologize sincerely, but you have to be kept safe, and I truly believe this will be the only place I can ensure that." Dumbledore explained.

"You are also required to sever your contact with any friends and family during this time so no information is leaked." Professor McGonagall added softly. At this, Hermione completely broke down.

"No family, no friends, staying with Malfoy for an undeterminable amount of time! How exactly am I going to be able to _do_ this without losing my mind?" Hermione sobbed. "How can you ask this of me?"

"How can we not?" Dumbledore asked. "This will seem unfair and unjust to you, but think of what may happen if we did not ask this of you. Voldemort would reign free over the Wizarding World, and all of us would be powerless to stop him while he continued to have his last Horcrux."

"Please, 'Mione." Harry whispered. "You know I would _never_ ask something like this of you unless it was the only way." Hermione stared deep into his eyes, hoping to see some sort of doubt that would validate her feelings. There was none. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"When must I leave for the Manor?" she asked.

"Immediately, I will send Mr. Potter to help you pack and tie loose ends." Dumbledore said as Hermione and Harry exited the room side by side.

Draco Malfoy remained, sitting quiet and still on the plush couch. Dumbledore sighed, and pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

"A great responsibility now lies with you, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore chose his words slowly and cautiously. Draco's face remained passive. "You are now going to be solely responsible for protecting her from her worst enemy."

"Aren't I her worst enemy?" Draco's voice was subdued, but still had lingering anger laced in it.

"Things are not always as they appear..." Dumbledore's voice tapered off, leaving Draco feeling confused and slightly betrayed.

"Are we done here?" Draco asked, annoyed and anxious to get home to think things through. Dumbledore nodded and stood to see Draco leave. Once he was gone, Professor McGonagall let out a deep breath that sounded suspiciously like a stifled sob.

"Albus, why did you not read to them the entirety of the prophecy?" she asked suddenly, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a delicate tissue.

Dumbledore twiddled his fingers together and closed his eyes.

"They do not need to know their probable deaths before they even attempt anything. I do not have the heart to doom them when we really have _no idea_ what is going to unfold in the next few months..." Dumbledore explained quietly, keeping his eyes locked on the desk below him the whole time.

A/N: For the Americans reading this story- Happy 4th! Oh, I had an email from someone who agreed to be my Beta, but then she never emailed this chapter back to me… it's been quite a while. So, here it is regardless- the next chapters will be coming soon now that I'm not waiting for them to be edited. Anyone interested in beta-ing? Please review- I want your feedback, ideas, thoughts- anything you would like to say!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with the stories. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling except my plot line.


	3. Welcome to Hell

Recap:

"Albus, why did you not read to them the entirety of the prophecy?" she asked suddenly, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a delicate tissue.

Dumbledore twiddled his fingers together and closed his eyes.

"They do not need to know their probable deaths before they even attempt anything. I do not have the heart to doom them when we really have _no idea_ what is going to unfold in the next few months..." Dumbledore explained quietly, keeping his eyes locked on the desk below him the whole time.

Chapter Three 

Welcome to Hell

Right after they had closed Dumbledore's heavy office door behind them, Hermione practically threw herself onto Harry. Her face was pressed hard against his neck and he felt her warm tears glide down his neck and under the collar of his shirt where they seeped into the cotton fabric. Standing there patiently while Hermione wept, Harry heard the muffled sound of voices on the other side of the door and assumed Dumbledore was having another discussion with Malfoy. As he wondered what Dumbledore wanted to say to Malfoy after everyone left, Hermione looked up from Harry's neck and hiccupped lightly.

"What am I going to tell my family?" Hermione whispered in a grave tone. "What am I going to tell _Ron_?" Her fingers were clenching the front of Harry's polo fiercely so that the blue fabric bunched in her hands.

"Calm down, Hermione, we'll figure something out…don't stress on it," Harry spoke absently, his mind concentrating hard on an entirely different matter; one dealing with Dumbledore and Malfoy's conversation. Hermione frowned and released the now wrinkled polo from her vice-like grip.

"Don't stress on it? _Don't stress on it_?! Harry Potter! I've just been sentenced to spend an undeterminable amount of time with Draco Malfoy that will result in the downfall of Lord Voldemort! How the _hell_ do you expect me to _not stress on it_?" This is real! I'm going to have to live with Draco Malfoy, and-and, oh God, _create_ something with him. Wouldn't you be a little on edge and a little stressed out if you were in my position? I can't talk to any of my friends, any of my family, _nothing_!" By the end of her outburst she sported bright pink spots high on her cheekbones. Harry was gaping rather guiltily at her by the end of this, his attention snapped back to the situation at hand.

"I-I didn't _mean_ it like that, I was just-"

Hermione stopped him mid-stutter with a heavy sigh. "No, no, Harry, it's alright. I'm just a little high strung; I didn't mean to take it out on you. I know you're just trying to help. Although, that was rather stupid of you-"

"Okay, 'Mione I'm going to stop you there so that it actually sounds like a real apology." Harry smiled timidly at her and she reciprocated with a small, crooked grin.

"Where's the closest fireplace authorized for floo that we can get to?" Hermione asked him, wiping the tears off her cheeks. Harry thought silently for a moment before answering.

"Professor McGonagall's office."

…

When they arrived at the Burrow, staggering out of the fireplace and covered in soot, they found the Weasley family happily chatting around their dinners at the table. Everyone but Percy, Bill, and Charlie were there from the Weasley clan. Fred and George were in the middle of excitedly describing a new product they were going to endorse for their Joke Shop, and using very animated hand gestures to illustrate. Ginny was sitting opposite of them, her face shining with laughter and amusement. Ron sat next to her, smiling broadly and making hilarious off-hand comments about the products Fred and George described. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were talking with their heads together, seemingly unaware of the other conversation taking place at the same table. When the family noticed the two guests come into the dining room, all conversation ceased.

"Well?" Ron asked after no one spoke for a moment, for they had all just been staring at the pair in suspense. Harry felt Hermione next to him gulp nervously, and he decided to break the news instead.

"We haven't much time, and I'll explain more thoroughly later, but Hermione has to go away for…a _while_….and she's here to say goodbye quickly," Harry explained awkwardly. The Weasley's all frowned before exploding into questions.

"Go away? _Where_ are you going away _to_?"

"Have you done something dodgy?"

"_How long_?!?

"Why can't _I_ go, as well?"

"Are you going out of the country?"

"Is Harry going too?"

Ginny Weasley asked the last question, and she blushed deeply immediately after. It was no secret that she was still very much infatuated with Harry, who was still refusing to restart their relationship until after he was sure all the Horcruxes were found and destroyed. He loved Ginny, obviously, and wanted to protect her by doing this, despite Ginny's insistence that the danger didn't matter to her; she loved him and wanted to be with him. Harry was very resolute in his ways, and wouldn't even kiss her these days. He felt it led her on and made it harder for him to stay true to his initial plan.

"Like I said, I'll explain everything later when there is more time, but for now just say goodbye." Harry explained, throwing Ginny a meaningful look that she clearly interpreted as _I'll tell you everything I know later_.

After half an hour of bitter-sweet hugs and confused looks, Harry announced that they needed to leave and asked if Mrs. Weasley could write a note to send to the Granger's explaining everything that was going on and apologies for not being able to be there in person to deliver the staggering news. After collecting Hermione's luggage by wand, they left the Burrow and stepped out into the cloudy and humid night.

…

It was pouring at Malfoy Manor.

Draco took it as a very accurate representation of how his day had been going thus far. Earlier in the day with Pansy had started out with promising characteristics, but had taken a turn for the worst and ended in a bleeding, shouting match between the two of them. Then, he was summoned up to Hogwarts to be told he would be wasting his first summer holiday as a graduate with Hermione Granger. Oh, and she would be moving in any minute.

As if on cue, the house elves scurried to open the solid, dark wood doors at the front of the estate. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter scrambled inside, dripping wet and shivering with a few pieces of traveling luggage in tow.

"-know you feel this way, but I promise it will be easier for you in the long run…" Harry whispered frantically to her, only to receive a withering glance. Hermione sighed heavily and ran her fingers through her dripping hair. It was ridiculously tangled and she had quite a difficult time getting her fingers all the way to the bottom of the dark strands.

"They're my _parents_, Harry! They deserve to hear everything from me _in person_!" Hermione argued, her voice taking on a familiar hint of stubbornness. It was at that moment the duo noticed Draco standing across the room from them, his hands crossed over his chest and glaring; his usual persona of arrogance permeating through the room like tangible waves of heat.

"Oh, by all means, continue. I'm extremely interested to hear about the Mudblood's parents. Tell me, are they both raging alcoholics after raising _her_?" Draco spat venomously, gesturing towards the shivering girl in front of him. Harry took a few dangerous steps toward Draco, but was forced to stop when Hermione caught a hold of his bicep.

"Don't bother, Harry. Malfoy's just trying to compensate for what he inherited from his father- a tiny, shriveled little instrument that really isn't good for anything." She sent Draco a smug look while Harry burst into loud guffaws of laughter.

"Ha, ha. How clever, you stupid, insufferable, maggoty piece of filth. I knew you were a wretched Mudblood _bitch_ the second I laid eyes on you. The one thing I never pegged you as was immature enough to make a fucking _penis_ insult, which, if I may clarify, is far from tiny, shriveled, or useless." Draco responded coldly, his fists clenched by his side.

"Well that only proves Malfoy is twice the dick we thought he was," Harry responded, smirking at Hermione. Her face twisted into an identically triumphant smirk right as Malfoy opened his mouth angrily to reply, but a sudden rushing noise filled the room around them, distracting everyone from the argument. Dumbledore stepped out of the large, ostentatious fireplace and pleasantly dusted himself off before viewing the small crowd in front of him.

"I see Miss Granger has managed to find her way to the Manor without any major catastrophes?" Dumbledore asked cheerily, his calm and enjoyable demeanor slowly coming back to him.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione answered automatically, her voice betraying the sadness and fear she was experiencing. The arrival of Dumbledore meant one thing as far as she was concerned; Harry would have to be leaving her all alone with Malfoy, and it was the last she would see of one of her best friends for a long, long time.

"Excellent, well, Mr. Potter you should probably get going to speak with the Weasley's and the Granger's at the Burrow- yes, they are all there waiting your arrival and explanation quiet impatiently. Oh, and Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore added at the last minute, as Harry had started turning to leave. "Stop being afraid. There will never be an opportune time if you continue going about life the way you are now." Dumbledore smiled slightly at him. Confusion clouded Harry's features for a fraction of a second, but after a few silent moments, his face softened with what appeared to be comprehension.

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied with a nod of his head before turning to face Hermione. "You know I love you, along with everyone else who's at the Burrow right now," Harry whispered, pulling her into a tight hug. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut with her face pressed against his shoulder and took a few deep breaths.

"I know…" she whispered in response. "I love you too. Please make sure everyone else knows I'll miss them and I love them as well."

"Oh, _God_." Draco drawled, tilting his head back and looking thoroughly bored.

"Goodbye, 'Mione," Harry spoke with finality, and with a moment's hesitation, he kissed her lips. Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she did not pull away. Draco practically choked on his own spit. _Potter kissing Granger? Wasn't she with Weasley?! What a fucking bitch move by Potter- to his best friend, no less!_ Draco's mind reeled with ideas when he was suddenly brought to the crashing realization that he would have no contact with these people for God knows how long and would not be able to cause appropriate havoc.

Hermione looked just as surprised as Draco when Harry finally pulled away from the chaste kiss. Her lips were parted slightly in awe and her eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

"Harry," she breathed quietly. "What about Ginny? Ron?" Her eyebrows furrowed in concern and a small amount of panic. Harry shook his head at her.

"I won't say anything." He assured her. "We'll just, deal with everything later. You're my best friend, I probably shouldn't have-" Hermione silenced him with another big hug, and then he was ushered away by Dumbledore (who chose to pretend nothing happened), and paused at the front doors.

"My suggestion to you both is to research possible ideas for Horcruxes. Key components to this include people, places, and historical events that may have influenced Voldemort. Best of luck to you both and you may owl me, _only_ me, with questions or ideas." With that final statement, he left, letting the door shut resolutely behind him. It echoed in the large, stone room.

"Well, I guess we both know what Potter's going to be thinking about tonight when he's all alone in his room. You fucking disgust me, Mudblood."

With his last word Draco threw a small, shiny object at her. It abruptly hit her in the stomach and fell to the floor where it made a smart, tinkling noise.

"What's this?" Hermione ignored his previous comment, despite the small flush in her face, and bent to pick up the small object on the ground. It was a small, gold key. Inscribed on the glittering surface was the word 'MANOR' engraved in an elegant script parallel to the jagged edges that were carved into the gold.

"What does it look like?" Draco drawled, already beginning to head up the stairs. Hermione looked after him with disbelief and annoyance.

"Aren't you going to show me my room?" she called after him, louder than necessary. Draco didn't even pause.

"Pick one out yourself. I don't give a fuck. Just leave me alone."

"Oh, _thanks_! I'll just carry _all_ this luggage myself, as well!" Hermione shouted after him, but he had already disappeared around a corner a floor above her.

…

Hermione chose a charming room, in her opinion. It was one of the biggest she found, having a few smaller rooms branching off of her main one so that it was almost like her own, small flat. Almost. She decorated everything according to her personal taste, with a great deal of help from her wand and numerous spells and charms. She was sad by the time she finished, thinking longingly of how she wished to show her handiwork off to Ginny, especially the cream colored lace curtains she had tastefully flowing from the French doors that opened to a gorgeous view of the gardens and estate. They tied to each side with lovely champagne colored ribbons. Thinking about Ginny caused her to feel a pang of guilt in her gut. What would Ginny do if she found out Harry had kissed her? What did that kiss mean, anyway? Friends don't usually kiss one another on the lips like _that_. And Ron… poor, Ron. Hermione suddenly found herself bubbling with anger; why would Harry do something like that to his best friends, and a girl he obviously loves? What the _hell_ was wrong with him? Another guilty pang hit Hermione when her subconscious quietly reminded her that she didn't pull away when he kissed her. Pushing the thoughts hastily from her mind, Hermione concentrated on finishing her room.

Her four-poster bed was covered with a white, down comforter and pale pink sheets that felt like silk. A sheer, off-white canopy fell from the top of her four-poster bed and one side tied off to the left with the same champagne colored ribbon. Feeling as though Edgar Degas' oil paintings fit into her room beautifully, she summoned a few prints for the walls.

She was just unpacking the last of her clothing into the lavish mahogany dressers when Draco abruptly entered her room without knocking or any warning whatsoever.

"What the _fuck_ did you do in here?" he asked incredulously, looking around the room in disgust. Hermione straightened and raised her chin defiantly.

"I _fucking_ decorated. Is that a problem?" she retorted with twice as much attitude. He glared at her with more hatred that she thought she had ever seen in him before.

"Your taste is almost as repulsive and nauseating as your blood. You might as well just slash your wrist and bleed all over the walls; it would be equally as sordid." Draco spoke this calmly and coolly, which horrified Hermione more than the actual words he was saying.

"Get out. You awful, wretched, spoiled, nasty little _child_! _Get out_!" Hermione screamed wildly at him as he smirked and left the room. He closed the door behind him, and just as he did he heard a loud smashing noise that let him know Hermione had just thrown something valuable at his head as he left. "_I hate you_!" He heard her shriek at the closed door.

"What a bloody shame! I've grown _ever_ so fond of you these past few minutes!" Draco retaliated, and then inwardly kicked himself for grabbing her bait. The door flew back open fiercely, and Hermione's figure practically leapt out of the room, wand drawn. Before he could even react, the tip of her wand was pressing uncomfortably hard next to his Adam's apple.

"Listen close, Malfoy because I'm only going to say this once." Hermione's voice was a hoarse whisper. "_This is your warning_. If you decide you want to try and fuck with me again, I want you to remember this moment where I have you completely helpless and I can do whatever I fucking please. Got it? You can either make this new transition easily and amiably or we can fight the whole bloody way. You pick, because I know _I'll_ be fine either road."

Draco Malfoy was speechless. He would never admit it, but he didn't think the girl actually had it in her until this moment. All sorts of incredible stories had reached his ears during their years at Hogwarts of her bravery and courage, but never had he actually witnessed it. One thing he was damn sure of was her capability with her wand, and that was enough to make him back down. This time.

"Aren't you just a barrel of fun these days?" Draco drawled, and then choked slightly because she jabbed further into his neck with her wand. "You're preaching about easy, amiable transitions yet you're the only one with their wand drawn, practically goring me with it. Take a bit of your own advice, maybe?" Draco challenged, refusing to show any amount of fear or submission. Hermione's features changed rapidly, and she slowly applied less and less pressure on his neck until it just graced his skin. She then took a few steps backward, wand still aimed straight between his eyes and glared at him, breathing heavily.

"Look, I hate you Malfoy, and I know you hate me. It's not exactly breaking news, however we're stuck together until we figure this whole mess out so we might as well try and get along," she said with a sigh.

"Okay, Granger, now that you're playing peace maker lets just get formalities out of the way. I'm not going to tell you where my room is because I don't want you bothering me. You're to leave your bedroom door open at night so that I know you're not sneaking off or doing anything… _dodgy_." Draco narrowed his eyes at her and cocked his head slightly to the side. "I don't trust you now and I probably won't ever trust you, and it will do you well to remember you are in _my house_. My house, my rules. My word is law here." Draco finished and smirked, obviously very proud of himself.

"Are you done?" Hermione had stood with her arms crossed throughout his entire speech. Draco thought silently for a moment before nodding, yes. "Lovely. Well, all I have to say to that is fuck you, fuck your house, and _especially_ fuck your rules." she whirled around after calmly stating the last part and slammed the door in Draco's face. He heard her murmur one locking spell after another until he couldn't keep up with it anymore.

…

Hermione hadn't seen Draco in two days. She knew he was still alive, because she kept finding traces of him around the Manor. Half-empty glasses of firewhisky, a pair of shoes, mud tracks on the stone. She came to the conclusion that he was a complete slob, and was so spoiled he didn't even know how to clean up after himself like a decent human being. Another slightly alarming discovery was that her bedroom door would always be open in the mornings when she awoke, no matter how many locking spells and charms she cast on it the night before. Whenever she finally did run into Draco, she made a mental note to yell at him about it.

Despite the small messes house elves scurried to clean up, Hermione found herself wandering into the expansive Malfoy library every evening to conduct two or three hours of grueling, yet thus far fruitless, research. She had absolutely no idea whether Malfoy was contributing nearly as much as she was because the library was always spotlessly clean, aside from the occasional dusty book.

Sitting down with a thud in one of the squashy leather armchairs, Hermione took out a roll of parchment and dated it _June 1__st_ in small, neat cursive at the top of the page. Beginning to pour over books, Hermione took careful notes of any information she deemed helpful or informative that related to their cause. So far she had taken almost ten feet of notes on the parchment, none of which helped fuel a breakthrough in her research.

Aside from studying in the evenings, Hermione found herself becoming more and more depressed as the days trudged on in solitude. She even took up running as an excuse to get out of the Manor and breathe fresh air every once in a while. To pass the time during the days, she would write letters to her friends that she would never be able to send. It was the only way she felt could ease the burden, because it made her feel as though she was actually talking to someone who cared about her.

Almost a week later, Hermione woke up abruptly from her dream in the early hours of the morning. She could not remember the details of it, only that it disturbed her greatly. She glanced around her room and noticed that the door was already wide open- despite her growing efforts to keep it locked at night. Knowing she would never be able to fall back asleep, she peered at her watch, which read 5:15 a.m. Yawning softly, she pulled herself out of bed and took a hot shower. It was almost six when she finished dressing, and not knowing what else to do she started heading down to the library as if on autopilot.

Opening the doors to the library, she was surprised to find Draco just having gotten there and drinking a steaming cup of coffee as he sat down to read a book. He looked up at her suddenly, but didn't glare. Hermione was almost so excited to see another human that she didn't even throw any insults out at him.

"I knew you would be here for some reason," Draco said casually, as if the statement would have no impact on her at all. Hermione frowned and looked at the old antique clock on the wall.

"What's the date?" she asked slowly, looking back over at Draco. She was starting to freak him out with the expression on her face. It was eerie.

"The sixth…" realization began to dawn on him as he said it. He felt his body erupt in shivers. Hermione's breathing increased rapidly and she looked around the library frantically, as if expecting to see some sort of demon creature jump out at her.

"So, let's get this straight," Hermione cleared her throat. "It's six a.m. on the sixth day of the sixth month and we're both here by _coincidence_?"

"Well, what do you think it means, then?" Draco asked, trying not to look as visibly shaken as he felt, for magic like this was very old and very dark. "If you're so fucking smart, why don't you just figure it out for the both of us and save time, eh?" Hermione turned her head sharply to look at him. She almost looked… sad.

"I don't _know_ what it means, Malfoy. All I know is that it's a really odd coincidence that everything just happened to line up like this…" Hermione snapped, aggravated at his defensiveness.

"Well damn, Granger, you're so useful I might as well pack it up and leave everything to you." Draco stood up from his chair, grabbing his coffee and parchment. As much as Hermione wanted to let him walk out and leave, her curiosity got the best of her.

"Wait, Malfoy." She immediately regretted saying it. He half turned to look at her, a bored expression on his face.

"What do you want?"

"Have you found anything of use?" She asked the question as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Draco shuffled some papers around.

"Definitely. You?" Hermione stiffened at his words, not wanting to seem inferior.

"Of course. I just wanted to make sure you're pulling your weight."

"Awesome, thanks." Draco replied sarcastically. "I'm so grateful I have you around to keep me in check these days."

"Piss off, Malfoy." Hermione shot back at him, firing up immediately.

"Say that again and I'll have all your clothes thrown out so you have to do everything around the manor stark naked. That obnoxiously large chip on your shoulder needs to be brought down a few notches." With that last remark, Draco left Hermione in the library, seething but not daring to say another word.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews I have received thus far- they make me smile! Next chapter is almost done, so expect it soon! Also, thanks a ton to my new beta, Bookluvr16, for doing an amazing job!

Next chapter you can look forward to… A new boy who will cause LOTS of problems for Draco and Hermione… mostly because Draco gets a _little_ jealous…also, some clues to figuring out the final Horcrux! It's going to be ridiculously long.

Don't forget to review… more reviews equal faster chapter postings!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with the stories. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling except my plot line.


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